


Sentimentality

by wanderingoverthewords



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 04:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18161480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingoverthewords/pseuds/wanderingoverthewords
Summary: Domestic life seems to bring about change, even in Gotham’s Rogues. Jonathan and Edward take the time to reflect on this before bed one night.





	Sentimentality

**Author's Note:**

> Characters: Edward Nygma, Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow, Bernie; mentioned Joker, Harley Quinn.
> 
> Pairing: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma.
> 
> Warnings: referenced human experimentation; mentioned kidnapping, sexual scenarios and drugging.
> 
> Notes: Was in the mood to write some soft Scriddler. Have their bedtime routine.
> 
> All material belongs to DC Comics (although, my interpretations of the characters are used).

“Riddle me this, Jonathan Crane.”

The scratching of Jonathan’s pen on the page of his notebook came to a quick stop, the hand clutching it freezing mid-stroke; the word ‘exposure’ was only half done and would remain so until Jonathan’s attention was allowed to drift back to his note-taking.

For now, however, it was with his partner, whom he hadn’t even heard enter his study, oblivious to the door opening and padded footsteps making their way down the short staircase. From how close Edward sounded, Jonathan could gather he was currently standing in the middle of the room, directly in the centre of the circular rug on the floor.

Jonathan didn’t turn his head to look at him, only cast his stare to the corner of his eye as he focused on what was being said. He didn’t much care for Edward’s riddles usually - occasionally, he’d take him up on them if he wanted some mental stimulation or as a way to observe Edward’s mannerisms to back up his claims of Edward’s own brain function - but he knew Edward wouldn’t leave if he didn’t listen. They were important to him, after all, his special interest. Ergo, Jonathan would listen.

Edward had his hands on his hips as he recited his riddle. “I am free, yet priceless. You can’t own me, but you can use me. You can’t keep me, but you can spend me. Once you’ve lost me, you can never have me back. What am I?”

Jonathan thought about it, sniffed, then replied, “Yer time.”

“Correct. Have you looked at it recently?”

Jonathan sniffed again, then cast his gaze to the clock on the wall by his desk without turning his head. It was getting to be ten minutes past midnight. He knew what Edward was about to say.

“Hm,” was all he offered about the current time.

“‘Hm’ indeed.” Edward picked a piece of loose fluff from his argyle sweater vest, rubbing it between his forefinger and thumb before depositing it in the bin nearby. “It’s time I went to bed; spent a bit too long on my latest plans, time got away from me.” He cocked his head. “Might I be expecting you to follow my lead any time soon?”

With how much Edward was repeating the word ‘time’, Jonathan was beginning to think he was trying some subliminal messaging. It wasn’t working, but it was a sweet attempt, if it was an attempt at all.

Jonathan looked down at his notes. He’d only just begun writing down the findings of his latest experiment, his other hand clutching the recorder from which he was playing back his own observations from the day before. It was silent right now, for he’d stopped it to take down a portion of notes before he would hit play again.

He couldn’t possibly go to bed when only thirty seconds of a five minute recording had been jotted down; there was simply too much to do right now, regardless of whether or not Jonathan was tired. He felt a little bit drowsy, but not enough to retire and certainly not enough to stop his work when it wasn’t finished.

With that in mind, the decision was made, and Jonathan looked back to the corner of his eye despite knowing Edward wouldn’t see it. “Not right now. I gotta finish some stuff. Then I’ll be up.”

Edward hummed, and Jonathan could tell he wasn’t all that pleased with that decision.

There was some disgusting sentimentality in that Edward enjoyed going through their bedtime routines together - undressing and preparing their sleepwear, brushing their teeth, Jonathan making silent excuses to be in the room when Edward removed the gel from his hair to watch neat and tidy become scruffy and unkempt, just as he liked it - and he knew he was ruining the chance for the situation to occur again.

Who knew the Gotham Rogues could be so domestic?

At the same time, however, Edward understood Jonathan’s workaholic tendencies. Didn’t enjoy them, but he understood and (mostly) respected them, and so he would leave Jonathan in his study should that be what his partner wanted to do.

Jonathan was surprised Edward didn’t make some sort of effort to persuade or drag him to bed; perhaps he’d misjudged him all these years. Being lovers with a man one once hated certainly gave one a chance to learn more about them.

“Well, then you can riddle me  _this,_  Jonathan Crane: I engulf you in darkness, but you see many things. I can be resisted, but a lack of me leaves rings. What am I?”

Jonathan sniffed. “Sleep.”

“Yes,” Edward said, and Jonathan barely heard him cross the second half of the rug to get to Jonathan’s chair, which he leaned upon as he pressed a kiss behind Jonathan’s ear gently. “Don’t stay up too long. Join me soon.”

Jonathan stiffened at the contact, if only because he was tickled not only by Edward’s lips, but the collar of his shirt as it brushed the back of Jonathan’s neck, in the tiny gap between his hair and the collar of his own flannel shirt. He didn’t take kindly to being tickled (as the Joker had once learned, when Jonathan’s instinct had been to punch him in the face the second the feather had touched his skin, though that might have had a little more to do with him being the  _Joker_  than anything), but he knew it hadn’t been on purpose, so he kept his retaliations to himself.

He nodded once slowly, felt Edward take his weight off of his chair, heard Edward give a warm wish of a good night to Bernie, and this time actually heard the door open and shut as Edward left his study.

Jonathan sighed through his nose softly, finished the sentence in his notebook, then held his recorder to his ear and pressed play. His own voice spoke in his ear, while a male’s terrified whimpers and cries were heard in the background.

_“Subject’s heart rate has just skyrocketed. Getting up to one-hundred-and-twenty-six beats per minute - I would be careful with that ticker of yours, Mr. Fletcher. You only got one, I ain’t gettin’ you another. That ain’t my thing. Alright…Subject is hyperventilatin’, the hallucinations are kicking in right about now - much quicker, that’s good…I imagine he’s seein’ something quite awful; he is having…quite the panic attack.”_

_“Breeeathe, Mr. Fletcher, breathe. That’s the ticket.”_

Jonathan inhaled slowly, shutting his eyes.

God, he loved when Edward took part in his research. He didn’t do much beyond sitting there, observing and taunting Jonathan’s victims, but it was all Jonathan needed to remember why on earth he was with the man in the first place. He could still remember the way Edward had crouched down before the man tied to the chair in the middle of Jonathan’s lab down in the Narrows, smirking wickedly and mock-cooing instructions on how to breathe better. There was little else more attractive than when Edward was spreading fear - the only thing more so was when Edward himself was scared.

Jonathan could stare at his terrified expression for hours…but he was nicer than that. During the unfortunate accidents where Edward was exposed to his toxin, Jonathan administered the antidote after a good minute or so of taking in just how  _beautiful_ Edward was when he was scared. He couldn’t really help himself; such a rare, wondrous sight had to be beheld.

_“Ew. Do try to stop sweating while you’re at it, Mr. Fletcher. You’ll begin to stink up the place.”_

Jonathan heard himself chuckle.  _“Could fetch ya a towel, if you’d like. Can’t fetch ya a new ticker, but we can do a towel.”_

_“I’m not getting it. Besides, wouldn’t you rather take note of Mr. Fletcher’s phobia, dear?”_

Jonathan heard himself suck in a breath.  _“Indubitably…”_

He’d always been so overprotective of his experiments, he hadn’t allowed Edward anywhere near them for the longest time. It still wasn’t a regular occurrence, if only because their schedules often combated each other’s; these experiments they shared were treated as a special sort of date they only got to go on every so often.

He still didn’t trust Edward to use the fear toxin itself (he didn’t trust  _anyone_  to use his fear toxin), no matter how many times Edward had complained his distrust was misplaced, he wouldn’t use it in any way Jonathan disapproved of, he  _couldn’t_  use it in such a way if Jonathan was right there, watching him. It was now an unspoken conflict; Edward had to be content to sit, watch and taunt as an audience.

To Edward’s credit, he was a good assistant. He made the notes that Jonathan might have missed in his fun, passed tools, got up close and personal to do his best scaring. He made it clear he wasn’t Jonathan’s slave - Crane had better remember his manners and say ‘please’ if he wanted Edward to pass him something - while at the same time being most helpful whenever an extra hand made the work easier (wasn’t  _needed,_  Jonathan was perfectly capable on his own, but it was appreciated). He never even wore any question marks, just a button up shirt, slacks and shoes that were all black and a tie and leather gloves that were all purple, darker colours to blend well into the shadows during the kidnapping process.

He was not the Riddler during these dates, he was Dr. Crane’s assistant. He’d even teased the idea of getting a lab coat to better look the part.

Jonathan couldn’t say he would mind seeing Edward in one. He would’ve lent him one of his old coats from his Arkham days if they weren’t all too long on him.

Inevitably, thanks to Jonathan’s own tastes, their special dates ended with the two making love as soon as they got home. Honestly, it took everything in Jonathan’s power not to cancel the experiments and rush home with Edward the second Nygma made their victims whimper in fright with his taunts. He almost had done the first time Edward had carried out his research with him; he’d gotten as far as sweeping his partner up onto a desk and kissing the hell out of him before remembering there was a poor, incapacitated soul in the room, who had quickly been disposed of so Jonathan could drive he and Edward home, and they had ended up making passionate love on the living room floor.

(If Edward ever ended up getting that lab coat, Jonathan might have to insist he keep it on for that last part of their date…)

Jonathan cleared his throat, opened his eyes and forced himself to carry on with his note-taking before he got too caught up in memories.

His writing back underway, Jonathan was aware that - by now - Edward was more than likely dressed in his silk pyjamas, his casual wear all folded neatly and placed into the laundry basket by their bed. He’d be in the bathroom now, making sure his bladder was empty, his hands and forearms and face were washed, his teeth were cleaned and flossed and rinsed through with mouthwash - and then he’d take the gel out of his hair.

Jonathan sighed through his nose, then yawned into the back of the hand that held his recorder. He’d gotten so used to the sleep schedule Edward had put him on, he didn’t used to get tired like this at this time of night.

Back when he used to live in his shack on the outskirts of Gotham, it didn’t matter when he went to bed or when he awakened, he was always in a perpetual state of stoic grumpiness, mood mostly unaffected by the amount of sleep he got. Time had been an illusion; Jonathan Crane had slept when Jonathan Crane had wanted to, not a moment sooner or later.

Now, living with Edward, he had a better schedule. He got tired sometimes and napped, he actually went to sleep in a  _bed,_  and he was now no longer a morning person.

(Heaven help whoever woke Jonathan Crane up before he was fully ready to awaken from his slumber; he was a thing from Hell when woken up too early. Edward could vouch for that.)

Domestic life had changed him more than he’d realised.

It was another half hour before Jonathan was satisfied with his work, a whole thirty minutes of replaying the recording in chunks to make sure he got everything down, comparing the findings of his latest batch of toxin with the one previous to it, getting caught up in Edward’s voice on the tape, but he was finally done.

_“Experiment number: hashtag eight-five-three-three. Phobia present: lilapsophobia. Patient status: deceased. Those present: Ichabod, the Headless Horseman and Van Tassel -”_

_“Pfft. I still can’t believe you have codenames for us…”_

_“Hush. End of recordin’.”_

Jonathan heard a click, then set the recorder down. Content with his work for the night, he recapped his pen, shut his notebook and heaved a sigh through his mouth as he leaned back in his chair. He stretched his arms above his head, popped the joints in his back, then sighed again as he let his arms dangle at his sides.

To his left came a high-pitched squeaking; Jonathan raised his head and smiled softly at the tiny, brown mouse leaning her front paws on the side of her cage, standing upon her hind legs and sniffing at the air in his direction.

Jonathan chuckled, then wheeled his chair over to the small table holding Bernie’s cage upon it.

She’d once had a smaller cage on his desk, but there hadn’t been enough room for it and his stuff, and so he’d moved her to her own personal table, giving her a bigger cage as well. Was better for her wellbeing, all in all, and Jonathan would never leave Bernie uncomfortable.

He opened the top of her cage and stuck his arm in, using one finger to gently pet the fur of her back, the very tip of his nail brushing over the nick in her right ear. He made kissing noises at her, then chuckled again.

“I know, I know…” He muttered fondly at her squeaking. “Dr. Crane’s worked too late again.” He wagged his other index finger at her. “Don’t need you ta go lecturin’ me, now, little lady. Get enough o’ that from Mr. Nygma. ‘sides, this li’l cube of sugar should be in bed herself; past yer bedtime.”

He made some more kissing noises at her, then slowly slid his arm out of her cage and shut the door. Jonathan leaned down to her and smiled at her gently, curled and uncurled a finger in the air as a gesture to replace a wave, then bid her goodnight and stood up from his chair.

He put his notebook away on a shelf alongside its brethren, then yawned as he ascended the staircase and opened the door at the top. Flicking the nearby switch downwards, he shut the lights off in his study and left, shutting the door behind him.

After getting upstairs, Jonathan’s first destination was the bathroom. He started his own routine by going to the toilet, making sure his own bladder was empty before he moved on to the nearby sink. He washed his hands thoroughly with the anti-bacterial hand wash that smelled like honey, dried them with a towel, then plucked the red toothbrush and tube of toothpaste from the cup on the windowsill. He brushed his teeth as thoroughly as he cleaned his hands, then used the mouthwash.

It was probably a good thing Edward wasn’t there; he hated how Jonathan always tipped his head back and gargled. The noise bothered him something awful, he’d even cover his ears with both hands and snap at Jonathan to stop it. If Edward was still awake, Jonathan could bet he could hear him and was reacting with anything between scoffing with disgust and shoving his palms over his ears.

When that was done, Jonathan checked his teeth in the mirror to make sure all of tonight’s dinner was cleaned out from the gaps, then he sniffed and left the bathroom, turning out the light as he went.

When he entered he and Edward’s bedroom, he immediately looked over at his partner.

Edward was laying on his back, duvet pulled up to his chest, his arms resting atop it with his hands folded. His hair was pulled out of its gelled-back style, just as Jonathan knew it would be, and was now scruffy and loose. His purple sleep mask covered his eyes with two green question marks; the mask alone looked silly enough to warrant a chuckle, but the fact that Edward was laying like an Egyptian mummy was even sillier, and Jonathan couldn’t help the snort that escaped him at the sight.

He knew Edward was still awake when he caught sight of one eyebrow lifting in confusion, but he didn’t say anything to him. Jonathan just reached for his flannel shirt - always left open, always paired with a t-shirt, always with the collar popped up and the sleeves rolled up - and shrugged it off his person, folding it in half before tossing it into the laundry basket per Edward’s past request. He would’ve just left his clothes on the floor if it hadn’t been for Edward’s habits.

He unbuckled his belt and pulled his jeans off, doing the same with them as he did his shirt after removing the belt from the loops and discarding that on his dresser.

Jonathan looked down at his feet to decide whether or not to remove his socks. Was it warm enough to take them off or would he need them for a peaceful sleep tonight? Cold feet meant no sleep, regardless of the duvet’s presence; Jonathan wasn’t beyond moving so much in his slumber that he pushed it off, and there was every chance that Edward would declare it too warm to have covers on too.

Sleeping in a shared bed was certainly an experience…

Shrugging, Jonathan elected to keep them on, then removed his glasses, closed them and placed them on the bedside table. Now in only his dark grey t-shirt, his bright blue boxers and his bottle green socks, he lifted the duvet on his side of the bed - the side closest to the door, while Edward took the side closest to the wide window - and ducked into bed.

He too chose to lay on his back, shuffled to get comfortable, then sighed peacefully through his nose as he rested. He hadn’t been too sure of silk bed sheets at first, but they proved to be wonders for his sleep. If he and Edward were to ever break up, Jonathan would be taking the sheets with him.

It was mere seconds into the peaceful silence that a weight was put upon his arm and Jonathan opened his eyes despite knowing what it was.

Edward was resting against him now, one hand loosely touching the bare skin of his arm as his head leaned against his bicep.

Jonathan couldn’t see shit without his glasses, but he knew Edward was smiling. Knew it from experience.

With a puff of air blown out of his nostrils, Jonathan raised his arm and Edward shuffled over, now laying his head upon Jonathan’s chest, his ear over his heart and his hand over his belly.

Jonathan brought his arm back down, settling it around Edward’s shoulders and holding onto him in a loose but firm embrace, allowing him space to move should he wish to get out of this position but with enough strength that the hug was kept alive.

Jonathan shut his eyes again and was content to leave it at that, but Edward apparently had other ideas; he was giggling to himself, making Jonathan’s eyes flick open.

He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to try and see Edward’s face, despite knowing it would be nothing but a blob to him without his glasses. “Whatchu sniggerin’ about?”

Edward laughed softly to himself for a few seconds more, lifting one hand to cover his mouth with the pads of his fingers, and Jonathan shook him lightly to tell him to hurry up and share the gag.

Edward settled himself before replying, “This is just funny to me, is all.”

“What is?”

“This. You. Holding me like this.”

Jonathan blinked. “…I assumed that was what you wanted.”

“It is what I want. It’s just funny to me, the situation.”

“How so?”

Edward began to pick himself up and Jonathan loosened his grip to allow Edward to lean on one elbow on the mattress. With one hand, Edward lifted his sleep mask off of his eyes and pushed it up into his hair, smiling softly down at his partner.

Unlike Jonathan, he wasn’t completely useless without his glasses, so he could see the way Jonathan’s expression was caught between light confusion and determined squinting to try and make out Edward’s face amongst the blobs of cream, green, purple and brown.

Edward sniggered to himself at the expression, then cocked his head. “This time last year, I could barely get you to hold my hand without you flinching away out of instinct or suspecting some ulterior motive. Now, you’re perfectly content to hold me while we sleep, when you’re at your most vulnerable.” His smile picked up at one side. “I find your character growth to be delightful, if just a bit amusing.” He shut his eyes, lifting his chin proudly. “I’ve had quite an impact on you.”

Jonathan grunted, sighed and started to shuffle away, beginning to turn over to show his back to Edward. “Y’know, I don’t care fer bein’ teased…” He sounded exasperated.

“No, no, no,” Edward set a hand on his arm to stop him, pulling slightly to try and turn him back over, “I’m not  _teasing,_  I’m just  _observing._  You should know what that’s like; I know you were enjoying listening to our last experiment.”

Jonathan grunted again.

“Besides,” Edward leaned his cheek against Jonathan’s arm, “I never said I dislike it. In fact, I love it. I enjoy how you now treat me like your lover and not just the man you live with, like before.” He kissed the small part of Jonathan’s bicep that his t-shirt sleeve didn’t cover up. “I enjoy our relationship how it is now. I’m just saying: you’ve changed some, you can’t deny that, and I find it somewhat amusing. You aren’t quite the miserable, old  _bastard_  that you used to be.”

Jonathan’s eyebrow rose as he let out a snort at the sudden curse, unable to help himself.

No, he couldn’t deny that he’d changed. The fact that he was even laying in bed with Edward right now was evidence of that.

When he’d first moved in, Jonathan had slept on the couch, out of desire to follow old habits; it was what he’d done at his bombsite of a house, after all, just now with a blanket and two pillows. He’d done this for a good few weeks before Edward had come home one night to find Jonathan asleep in the guest bedroom, sideways, on top of the covers and still in all of his clothes, but on a bed nonetheless. A few more weeks of separate bedrooms and Edward had been shocked to see Jonathan casually entering his bedroom one night, depositing his flannel shirt and jeans on the floor and crawling into bed like it was no big deal, like he owned the damn thing.

Edward had had to stop himself from bouncing off the bed in gleeful excitement.

It had still been quite a while before Jonathan was holding him, even then; he’d been more content to rudely shove Edward away whenever Edward tried to initiate a cuddle, especially after sex.

Then came a time where Jonathan was okay with holding hands while the two sat beside each other, and after that came hugs that were less stiff and lifeless and more protective, then came the cuddles while reading - nowadays, Jonathan was perfectly content to do them all, his age-old distrust of other people getting chipped away, at least where Edward was concerned. Now, Edward had  _privileges._

“…Yeah, well,” Jonathan spoke up fondly, rolling onto his back and lifting his arm up as an invitation, “yer still a whiny, li’l  _bitch,_  no matter what.”

Edward grinned and ducked under the arm to place his head upon Jonathan’s chest again, hand resting upon his belly and ear taking in the sound of Jonathan’s heartbeat. It was soothing to hear, not for any such cliché of being the ‘sound of love’ or whatever the hell people wrote in those crappy romance novels Harley liked and had once attempted to write herself, but because it was gentle and relaxed. It was proof of how comfortable Jonathan was with him now.

“Yes, well, you’re still miserable. And old.”

“And - technically - a bastard.”

Edward cracked up, laughing into Jonathan’s t-shirt while Jonathan gave some closed-mouth chuckles, then the Riddler picked himself up again, leaning more on his partner than the mattress this time.

He smiled down at Jonathan. “Yes. That too.”

Edward leaned in and they shared a soft kiss, held for a couple of seconds before breaking with nothing more than a small sigh between the two men, then Edward kissed the side of Jonathan’s nose and nuzzled it with his own.

Jonathan’s face scrunched up on instinct, eyebrow raised and smirking in an amused, silent question of when exactly Edward had gotten a penchant for nose brushing.

Edward didn’t answer that question, just leaned back and said, “Goodnight, dear. I love you.”

Jonathan reached up and patted the back of his head to tell him the well wishes were returned, and to lay back down.

Edward laid down as requested, head back on Jonathan’s chest, and Jonathan’s hand remained on the back of his head until it slid forward to run the scientist’s long, thin fingers through Edward’s hair, nails lightly digging into Edward’s scalp.

From his spot on Jonathan’s chest, Edward looked up at him with one eye discreetly, then reached up and pulled his sleep mask back down.

Jonathan continued petting at his hair; he’d surprised himself when he realised he found Edward with his hair down…well, he hesitated to call it ‘cute’, but it was…it was  _something._  He used the claw of his fingers to pull Edward’s hair back from his forehead gently, on which he pressed a small kiss.

Edward’s lips pressed together in a cat-like smile, the very tip of his tongue sticking out from between his lips as he held back the temptation to mention it. He knew where that would lead: Jonathan would take it as teasing and stop.

He’d made that mistake in the past: the first time Jonathan had ever petted his loose hair, he’d asked him if he was having fun and Jonathan had immediately stopped and wouldn’t continue, no matter how much Edward pulled at the arm Jonathan had locked at his side.

With that in mind, Edward pretended he didn’t feel the kiss.

It was Edward that drifted off first, breathing softly into Jonathan’s shirt, soft and warm against his side.

Jonathan was still stroking his hair gently; he never thought he’d enjoy such a thing as much as he did. He never thought he’d enjoy situations like this as much as he did, but there was something relaxing about it all. It was all so disgustingly sentimental, but…well, all in all, domestic life was almost addictive.

Besides, Jonathan had decided long ago that he wasn’t willing to give any of this up any time soon, and so he could - and did - sleep peacefully.

If he were to wake up in a different position, but with Edward still wrapped up in his arms, unwilling to let him go in their shared slumber - well…that just happened. No matter how disgustingly sentimental.


End file.
